


Ink

by Cottonstones



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Body Worship, Dry Humping, Fluff, Grinding, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: Vernon gets a new tattoo and Jack shows his appreciation for Vernon's body art.





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been in pepperjack hell, but it's been especially bad since Stout Train so this happened.

Vernon swears he can still feel the prickle of his tattoo, the electric buzz humming under the surface of his skin. He’s too aware of the spot where his new tattoo sits, a splotch of bright red against the tanned olive of his arm. The thin gauze-like paper placed over his tattoo, the plastic film wrapped over that and taped down in a flat square on his skin isn’t helping the hyper-awareness he’s feeling. He’s never had a tattoo he couldn’t easily see, so it’s odd to feel the reminder that his body is different, changed, and inked with a memory of his life and not be able to see that difference, that timestamp of a marking. 

His schedule is pretty packed today between working in the morning, going to grab some lunch, squeezing in the visit to his friend’s parlor where he got his tattoo done, and then heading back to the office later tonight to record Stout Train at Jack’s request. 

The only break Vernon has is right now; a three hour window where he heads back to his apartment, a coffee in tow. He can hear Michael meowing before he even unlocks his apartment door and Vernon smiles, glad there’s at least someone he knows that will always be happy to see him. 

“Give me a sec, Mike,” Vernon says as he fumbles for his keys and tries desperately not to spill his now luke-warm coffee all over himself. 

Vernon eases the door open, sticking his leg in first to shoo Mike away from the door. She isn’t prone to slipping out. She’s nervous about strangers and the outside world, she’s kinda like Vernon in that sense. He gets inside his apartment, shutting the door behind him with a bump of his hip before Vernon bends down, setting his coffee and the plastic bag of vinyls he had picked up on his way home on the floor, Mike rubbing at his ankles. 

“Hey, angel,” Vernon says, “You miss me?” he rubs his knuckles over Michael’s sleek black head and listens to her purr in response. 

Vernon hears his phone chime and he straightens up, digging in his back pocket for his cell. He sips at his coffee as he unlocks his phone. It opens to a message from Jack. Vernon smiles even though he’s pretty sure that Jack’s probably just texting him about the recording session tonight. 

_‘You home?’_

Vernon pads over to his kitchen counter and sets his drink down, Michael circling around his feet, not ready for Vernon’s attention to move on from her. 

_‘Just got in. What’s up, bud?’_

_‘Wanted to know if I could come over for a bit.’_

Vernon’s heart thumps quick in his chest and his smile widens. He’s glad there’s no one around but his cat to see him looking like such an idiot. 

_‘Yeah, man, of course you can.’_

Jack’s response is quick, like his only focus is talking to Vernon. 

_‘Okay, see you soon.’_

It’s strange how even while he’s reading the texts he can hear the words in Jack’s voice, the lush, rolling Irish accent that no one in the office can seemingly reproduce, something completely unique to Jack. A voice that Vernon could listen to all day. The thought makes his face flush. God, he was being so stupid. His body is already thrumming with a nervous energy as he waits for Jack to make it to his apartment. 

While he waits, Vernon drains the rest of his coffee, puts his new vinyls on the shelf, he waters the plant he’s still trying valiantly to keep alive. Then Vernon sits on his small couch and fucks around on his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed, his knee bouncing, jangling the keys in his pocket. 

Twenty-minutes later Vernon can hear the pad of footsteps out in the hall and then a quick knock at his door. He sets his phone down on the low coffee table in front of him before he pushes up off the couch and walks to the door. Even though Vernon is sure it’s Jack out in the hall waiting for him, he still peers through the small circle of glass, his anxiety about strangers, about fans finding his place is a silly but strong undercurrent in his life and it’s become a habit to check.

Vernon spots dark hair and bright blue eyes and he feels relief flood him, mixing with the excitement in his stomach. He unlocks the chain at the door and tugs it open. 

“Hey, Jack,” Vernon says, willing himself to be casual, to not make a damn fool of himself. He’s twenty-eight years old and embarrassed as fuck to be sporting a crush that he feels is more appropriate for a high-schooler. 

Jack smiles, flicks the dark curtain of hair from his eyes, “Nice to see you, Vern.” 

“I’m kinda surprised to see you. I thought you’d be in panic mode gearing up for tonight,” Vernon says, stepping aside and letting Jack into his apartment, closing the door behind him. 

Jack shrugs, “I don’t want to overthink any of it. We have the song done already and that was the hardest part. He turns so that he’s facing Vernon again, “The Guinness is already in the fridge at the office.” 

“What a great planner. You really deserve a raise, you know that?” Vernon says, smirking at Jack. He really is impressed. None of them had really mentioned Stout Train, March being very busy for all of them. Then Jack sprang up out of nowhere with a fire under his ass and slammed out a song and an idea for a recording session, his drive is incredible and not for the first-time Vernon is so damn happy that Jack is back in California with them. 

“Aye, make sure you tell Arin that, yeah?” Jack says around a soft laugh, his handsome face bright, eyes sparkling. It takes everything Vernon has not to sigh like a lovesick middle schooler. “Oh!” Vernon hears Jack say and then they’re both looking down to see Michael curling around Jack’s feet as she had done to Vernon when he got home. 

Jack loves animals though dogs are more his style, but he bends down and pets Michael from her head to her tail and Mike arches into his touch. Vernon flat out refuses to get jealous of his cat. He’s not that much of a pathetic idiot. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Jack coos at Mike. 

“You know, usually she hides from strangers, even still from Jared sometimes. She must like you.” 

“Guess you could say I’m a pussy magnet?” Jack says, a laugh bursting out of him as he waggles his brows at Vernon. 

“Oh my God,” Vernon groans, “That was awful, that was like, ‘Dad jokes’ level of awful.” 

Jack straightens up and the remnant of his smile is still clinging to his face as his eyes meet Vernon’s, “Works for me, you like dads, right?” his tone is a little deeper when he says this and Vernon’s stomach feels hot and squirmy, his cheeks flushing despite himself. 

“You’ve been talking to Brian too much,” Vernon mutters. 

Jack laughs, “Well, I do follow you both on Twitter.” Jack is smiling warm and soft when he steps closer to Vernon, closing the space between them, his hand seeking out Vernon’s wrist as he wraps his fingers around the smooth skin, stroking his fingertips over Vernon’s pulse point.

Vernon sucks in a sharp breath. He and Jack have been fooling around for close to two months now, something that started when Jack found himself back in California. It’s casual and loose and it works well for the two of them, no definitions needed, no labels, no one having to know about it. 

Lately, Vernon’s been feeling something new, being feeling the effects of his blossoming crush. It felt strange and ass-backwards to say that he was getting a crush on the man he’s been fucking for two months, but that was a common theme in Vernon’s life, everything happening under bizarre circumstances. 

It felt too fuck-boy to be worried about ‘catching feelings’ but that was still a lingering concern in Vernon’s mind. He and Jack began under the idea of having casual sex and now Vernon’s script was changing, morphing into something else that Jack might not want. 

Jack’s hand moves from Vernon’s wrist, sliding up his arm, making Vernon’s skin break out into goosebumps, making a shiver run through him. Vernon’s hand finds Jack’s waist, his hand cupping his hip over the soft worn fabric of Jack’s t-shirt. 

Jack is shorter than him but not by much, just enough that he has to press up on his toes to get close to Vernon’s mouth, Vernon leaning down to close the space between them and meet Jack in the middle. Their lips find each other in a gentle kiss. Vernon would be lying if he said he didn’t think or hope this might happen when Jack had initially asked him about coming over. 

Jack’s hand keeps inching up the back of Vernon’s arm, his fingers featherlight over Vernon’s skin, creeping upwards until Vernon feels him brush the tape at the back of his arm. Jack’s body stills and he makes a humming noise against Vernon’s lips. 

“What’s that?” Jack asks as he draws back, breaking their kiss. 

“Oh,” Vernon says, his hand sliding up and down the curve of Jack’s waist, eager to ruck the fabric up so he can get to the skin underneath, “I just got a tattoo earlier.” 

“You did?!” Jack asks, sounding equal parts excited and surprised, “Why didn’t you tell me? Let me see!” 

Vernon laughs but he obliges and turns himself around so that his back is facing Jack, “I mean, I posted a picture on Instagram. I figured you guys would see it tonight when we recorded.” 

Jack lets out a soft whistle, “A pepper. It looks cool.” He can feel Jack’s hand tracing the edges of the tape around the tattoo, the sensation making Vernon shiver, his skin is so sensitive already and Jack’s touch is only adding to that. He glances up to meet Vernon’s gaze, “You’re going to be covered soon.” 

“Four tattoos is hardly a sleeve,” Vernon says, turning to face Jack, and raising his hand to run his fingers through the fringe of Jack’s dark hair. It was longer before, touching his shoulders when he came back to California, and Vernon had reveled in the length, running his hands through it. He loved how cute Jack looked in the little ponytails he’d wear around the office, but the constant heat had been too much for Jack and he cut his hair a week ago. 

Jack hums his response. Even his littlest noises sound musical, something melodic behind them. Vernon uses the hand tangled in Jack’s hair to draw him closer. He catches the scent of mint on Jack’s breath, the smell of his cologne and Vernon wants to breathe him in until the smell is memorized, embedded in him. God, he’s so hopeless. 

Their mouths meet in another kiss, Vernon’s hand cradling the back of Jack’s head and Jack’s fingers tangled loosely into the fabric of Vernon’s t-shirt. The kiss is less innocent than before, a low heat burning through them, like their insides are made of tinder and all they need is a good spark to turn it into a fire. 

Jack’s lips slide damp and soft against Vernon’s, the press of Jack’s tongue gliding insistent against the seam of Vernon’s mouth. Their bodies draw closer together like magnets, irresistible to one another. Jack takes a step backwards, his hands curling around Vernon’s biceps, pale fingers flexing against the slight tanned muscle of Vernon’s skin. 

Jack keeps walking, leading Vernon backwards through his own living room. It feels odd, almost scary that Jack knows the layout of Vernon’s place well enough to get them both to the bedroom. It isn’t like Vernon’s apartment is all that big, his space is small, not cramped, but sometimes he gets claustrophobic, goes stir crazy imagining his entire life being boiled down to this apartment, his identity wrapped up in square-footage. 

Vernon’s bedroom door is already open and Jack passes through the threshold with ease. Barriers never seemed to matter much to Jack. It was like he spent his whole life baring himself for the world and Vernon understood it in some sense, but he envied it more often than not. Jack had an easy and gentle honesty about him that Vernon wished he had, a fearless way of showing the world who he is, offering it with no regrets and no hesitation. 

Jack’s hand finds Vernon’s face, his touch soft, drawing Vernon out of the cloud of his thoughts and back into the present. Jack smiles at him with a red-lipped mouth, no words passing between them. Jack knows what Vernon was doing, and he knows how to reel Vernon back in. As a thank you, Vernon leans in, captures Jack’s mouth again, his teeth digging into the soft red of Jack’s bottom lip. 

Jack groans, again he sounds like music, but he’s quick to break away. He turns them so that Vernon’s back is facing his bed and he can see out the open bedroom door into the hallway. Jack’s hands slide up his chest slowly, reaching Vernon’s pecs before he pushes lightly, nudging Vernon back towards his own unmade bed. 

Vernon gets the hint and lets his body fall back, settling at the edge of his mattress. Jack is a narrow line in front of him, dark hair, bright eyes, and that same deep red mouth. He smirks and steps forward, worming his way into the space between Vernon’s knees. 

“Hi,” Jack says, one hand at the back of Vernon’s head, his talented fingers scratching gently at Vernon’s scalp in this soothing way that almost has Vernon purring. 

Vernon’s eyes flutter and he licks his lips, lets his hands settle on the slim cut of Jack’s hips, “Hey.” 

Jack bends down and kisses Vernon again, quick, a tease of lips and tongue before his hands are urging Vernon down so that he’s lying on his back on the bed. 

“Scoot,” Jack says. 

Vernon complies. He’s never needed much in the way of persuasion and with Jack the urge to listen is even stronger. Maybe he just trusts Jack that much, as stupid as that one day might turn out to be. 

Vernon is laid out on his bed on his back and then he feels the mattress dip and Jack is climbing to settle down next to him. Jack fits into the space next to Vernon, his thin leg hooked over Vernon’s thigh. His face is up near Vernon’s shoulder and he presses a kiss to it through the fabric of Vernon’s t-shirt. 

“Did I ever tell you how much I like your tattoos? I always think it, but I don’t know if I’ve ever said it out loud.” 

“Not that I recall,” Vernon says, a bit surprised by Jack’s words. He’s even more surprised by the gentle press of Jack’s lips against his arm, specifically, he’s brushing over where Vernon’s Scare 2 Care logo is etched into his skin. 

“Well, I do,” Jack says, and then his tongue is swiping out, tracing over the tattoo, following the path his lips had just set. Vernon shivers, that buzzing under his skin intensifying. He’s never had someone focus on him like this, identify the individual parts that make up the whole and touching each one, “Just so you know,” he says, his breath hitting where Vernon’s skin is damp, amplifying that electric feeling. 

“Fuck, well, I’m glad you do. Since, you know, tattoos are kinda permanent and all.” 

Jack huffs out a laugh, one that Vernon can feel on his skin. Jack shifts against him, crawls so that he’s straddling Vernon, bends over him and presses kisses to the underside of Vernon’s arms, lets his lips inch down the expanse of Vernon’s skin until he’s reached Vernon’s skeleton tattoo. Vernon wants to sit up and watch, he wants to see Jack’s mouth sweet and soft against the inked parts of his skin, even if just for the aesthetic of it all, to see Jack paying attention to the art that decorates Vernon’s body. 

Jack’s fingers trace the outline of the box around the skeleton, the rough pad of his finger following the thin black lines. Jack’s mouth presses small kisses to the pale pink of the flowers blooming over Vernon’s skin. God, for the most part Jack’s touches are innocent, but it’s working Vernon up like no other, that heat burning though him brighter than before, centering on where Jack’s ass is planted firmly on Vernon’s legs. 

He’s afraid to move, afraid to disrupt Jack’s movements. He lies on his back, eyes fluttering closed as his skin hums with the teasing touch of Jack’s mouth. 

“You’re, uh, awakening some things in me,” Vernon says, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

“Yeah?” Jack asks, “You like it?” his tongue flicks out over the tattoo and Vernon hisses, his body growing more and more sensitive the longer it’s under Jack’s ministrations. Vernon swears he can feel Jack’s smile against his skin, “You might be doing things to me too. Changing my chemistry or something. I never gave a shit about tattoos before,” Jack says, leaning up just enough to let Vernon see his eyes, his curtain of hair slightly concealing them, reminding Vernon a little of a crocodile rising from the water, sizing up their prey. 

“Cool, we’re learning things about ourselves.” 

“Yeah,” Jack says, leaning back in towards Vernon’s arm. 

Jack kisses the skin just above Vernon’s skeleton tattoo, mouth soft like silk. Vernon lets out a quiet sigh. He’s riled and content all at once, an odd feeling where he could just as easily fall into a nap or loose languid sex with Jack. Vernon’s sigh changes to a groan when he feels the sharp nip of Jack’s teeth closing around that same piece of skin. He bites at Vernon not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Vernon’s heart race and his cock stir in his shorts. 

From the way Jack is seated against him he must have felt it too, judging by the warm puff of a laugh he leaves against Vernon’s skin. 

“I’m excitin’ ya, am I?” Jack asks, pulling back just enough to lick over the wound. 

Vernon can’t deny he’s turned on, that pain is more of a turn on than a boner-killer for him. 

“You want me to bite you again?” Jack asks, “Leave some pretty marks to match your tattoos?” 

“Fuck,” Vernon groans. He can’t resist touching anymore. His hand settles warm and open against Jack’s lower back. He rucks up Jack’s t-shirt, desperate to touch warm skin. Jack sucks in a breath and kisses at the curve of Vernon’s muscle. 

Vernon’s hands slide under the fabric of Jack’s shirt, skimming up the smooth skin of his back. Jack is warm and soft under his hands and Vernon feels that rush, that flood of affection under the lust, the thing that scares him more than anything. He can say it’s just sex with Jack until he’s blue in the face, but he can hardly get himself to believe his own words these days. 

Jack sits up, settles himself so he’s closer to Vernon. His hands resting open on Vernon’s thighs for balance. Jack’s hips roll forward, a small movement but Vernon feels it from head-to-toe. He’s definitely getting hard now, and it’s easy for him to tangle his fingers in Jack’s t-shirt and tug, pulling until Jack gets the hint, raises his arms, and allows Vernon to get his shirt off. 

He can’t resist all that pale skin. He runs his hands up Jack’s sides and for a moment it’s his turn to watch the way Jack’s body reacts to his touch. The way his mouth goes slack and his eyes darken with heat. He catches the hint of pink tongue sliding across Jack’s red lower lip just as Jack’s hips rock forward again. 

“Looks like maybe I’m not the only one getting worked up,” Vernon says. His fingers inch higher, over the soft of Jack’s tiny stomach, up over the dark fuzz of hair across his chest, Vernon’s thumb swiping over a nipple and earning a breathy noise from Jack. 

“Fuck,” Jack says, his hand resting on Vernon’s arm, his palm spread open just under Vernon’s Shadow of the Colossus tattoo. Jack rubs his thumb over the ink, like it’s a touchstone, something tangible, like he can feel each twist and knot of the design as if it were the real thing. 

“Goddamn…c’mere,” Vernon says, hands reaching Jack’s shoulders as he pulls the man down to meet him in another kiss. 

This kiss is by far their most heated of the evening. Vernon’s mind is going hazy with arousal, his fingers foraging invisible paths along the expanse of Jack’s flesh as his tongue snakes into Jack’s mouth. Jack meets him just as eagerly, as greedy as Vernon feels. 

Jack shifts forward and then he’s settled over Vernon’s crotch, his ass the perfect teasing pressure against Vernon’s rapidly hardening cock. He moans into their kiss, nails biting at Jack’s pale back. They’re exchanging sounds, a groan for a groan, pressing them against each other’s lips to be swallowed and lost. 

Vernon’s hands skate back down to Jack’s ass, his hands cupping it through Jack’s jeans. He palms Jack’s cute little ass and brings him closer. Vernon’s body acts on its own, knows how to make room for Jack. He parts his legs a little, just enough to shift Jack a bit. With their new positioning the next time Jack rolls his hips his cock brushes Vernon’s. 

Vernon moans and grips at Jack’s ass. The kindling inside of him that had been heating finally bursting into flame, yawning into a roaring fire. He needs Jack, needs him so much closer. 

“Oh fuck, Vernon,” Jack says, and even Vernon’s name sounds good when Jack says it.

“Yeah,” Vernon says, though God only knows what he’s agreeing with. All he knows is he wants to keep that friction alive between them. Vernon’s hand slides up Jack’s arm and then he’s at Jack’s shoulder and he’s tugging carefully, urging Jack to meet him.

They kiss, a hot mess of teeth and tongue and moaning against each other. It’s inelegant, all finesse going out the window in favor of searching that feeling, that heat. Vernon’s other arm loops around Jack’s lower back and locks him in place, presses him down the same time that Vernon rocks his hips upwards. The movement makes their cocks rub together through their jeans and Jack shudders, moans sloppily against Vernon’s lips. 

“It’s insane how good you make me feel,” Jack breathes, moving slow, meeting Vernon’s hips, their bodies like waves crashing together, “Even the littlest touch turns me on like nothin’ else.” 

Vernon sees spots, his mind and heart cartwheeling, thrumming with arousal. He loves Jack’s words as much as he fears them. The pulse between them is a beautiful heat, this primal arousal of the two of them rutting against each other. They aren’t even skin-to-skin, their dicks meeting through the thick crush of denim, legs tangled. 

It’s a strange turn-on for Vernon because Jack rocking against him, making his body lurch against the mattress, it almost feels like being fucked, reminding him of when his legs are up and wrapped around Jack’s waist and Jack is pounding into him. It all feels innocent in a way, reminiscent of dry-humping, of getting away with something that isn’t quite sex but sure as hell feels just as good. 

Vernon has no clue what time it is, when they’re supposed to head back to the office, whether or not Jack’s going to have a spare set of clothes or time to go home and change before they’re due back at work. All his responsibilities and things that should be important begin to fade when he’s around Jack. 

Jack kisses at Vernon’s chin, his jaw, plants these damp little pecks against his skin, trailing up his neck until Jack’s mouth finds Vernon’s ear, his hair tickling at Vernon’s forehead. 

“You’re goin’ to make me fuckin’ come in my pants, like I’m a damn teenager or something.” 

“Fuck,” Vernon says, fingers biting into Jack’s skin, threatening to leave pink marks behind, and he grinds up wild and desperate, “You know I’d rather let you come all over _me_.” 

Jack hisses, “You think talking like that is helping the situation?” 

Vernon’s hand twines in the back of Jack’s hair. He tugs a little and listens to Jack moan in response. It was something new, some thought sunk deep in the depths of Vernon’s mind, and he hadn’t meant to spring it on Jack without asking if it was a turn-on, but the response is a good one, has Jack grinding down firmly against Vernon. 

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me,” Jack mutters before he captures Vernon’s mouth in a kiss, rougher than any of the others, his teeth nipping carefully at Vernon’s bottom lip, Vernon’s fingers still tangled in Jack’s hair. 

Vernon can feel himself getting close, the pleasure filling him, expanding, until Vernon is sure he’s going to burst right on the spot. Jack’s hands slide down between them and he grabs at Vernon’s thighs, squeezing at them as he hikes Vernon’s legs up, aligns their bodies better than before and he grinds down against Vernon’s cock. 

“Shit, Jack, shit, shit, _shit_.” 

Vernon shudders and gasps and then he’s reached that point, flying off any edge he had left inside of him, tumbling through nothing but heat, and touch, and Jack’s scent. He comes in his pants like a fucking kid, like a virgin, too worked up during a make out session gone awry. 

Jack hasn’t come yet and as Vernon lies on his back on his bed, Jack bearing down on him, pressing against him in every way possible, mouth on Vernon’s neck as he bites and kisses, grinds against Vernon shamelessly; the aftermath seems distant, doesn’t feel like an issue. All he wants is for Jack to come too. 

“Come for me, Jack,” Vernon breathes, his voice oddly strained and deep, “Come on, baby.” 

Jack grunts and there are a few desperate moments, where Vernon is holding him and Jack is rolling his hips like it is what he was born to do, but then Jack finds that edge, catapults off of it just as Vernon had done, and he’s coming, shaking and shivering apart in Vernon’s arms, against Vernon’s body. 

Jack collapses against Vernon and then the quiet takes over the room. Vernon can hear their shared breathing, but beyond that, he can hear the traffic on the street below, non-descript honks, squeals of tires, an entire and busy world outside that doesn’t mean shit to Vernon in this moment. 

“Fuck,” Jack says, breaking the near-silence. He props himself up on his elbows to give Vernon a little space, grinning down at him. He’d just dry-humped Vernon in his own bed and somehow, he seemed just as put-together, as silly, and cute and charming as always. His voice was deeper now, his lips red, his hair a little messier from where Vernon’s fingers had found their way into it, “That was nice.” 

“Was that your plan all along?” Vernon asks, “An afternoon quickie?” 

Jack laughs, a post-orgasmic and lazy smile crossing his handsome face. “Believe it or not, no. You mentioned how you didn’t have anything green to wear for Stout Train, remember? I was stopping over to offer some things.” 

“Oh,” Vernon says. He distantly remembers that conversation happening when Jack had approached him about filming. 

“I mean, I thought we could talk and maybe fool around. Guess I got a little too worked up.” 

“You won’t find me complaining…except about the disgusting way my underwear feels right now… because that kinda sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Jack says, rolling off of Vernon and collapsing next to him in bed. It doesn’t feel strange at all, and maybe that in itself is weird, is the thing that seems off, “You have a shower, right?” Jack asks, turning on his side, hand propping his head up, eyebrows waggling at Vernon. 

Vernon snorts, “I do, yeah.” 

“Okay, you’ve got a shower and I’ve got a bag of clothes down in me car,” Jack says, “I can go grab it.” 

“Have fun walking down the stairs with come in your pants.” 

Jack laughs, leans in to kiss Vernon, “It is but a small price to pay for such a sinful indulgence.” The theatrical side bleeding out of him with ease. 

Vernon smiles into the kiss and they part easily. 

“I’ll get my bag and you start running the water for us, yeah? Nice and warm?” 

Vernon swallows, mind trying to count out the pros and cons of this, but in the end he nods, “Yeah, sure. I can do that.” 

Jack grins and then he’s leaping off the bed with an obnoxious amount of energy and an idiotic flourish, grabbing up his abandoned t-shirt, and humming to himself as he pads down Vernon’s hallway, cooing at Michael again as he heads out the door and down to his car. 

Vernon lies there and listens to him go, knows he’ll be back in just a few moments, they’ll share space and a shower. He’ll have to be careful about his new tattoo and keeping it dry, but otherwise he’s content. The earlier fears seemed to have drained – which is becoming a habit for Vernon when he’s around Jack – his busy brain quiet for once. All he feels now is settled, calm, and right. 

And he finds that he’s more than excited to go film tonight.


End file.
